


Cliche-Tomarry-Fest

by Azriella_Helsing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha!Voldemort, Dumbledore Bashing, M/M, Omega!Harry, Past Abuse, Severus Snape is not a complete douchecanoe, sorta soulmate au, stripper!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-11-28 07:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18205397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azriella_Helsing/pseuds/Azriella_Helsing
Summary: Stripper!Harry Omega!Harry AUThe boy who lived vanishes after his godfather dies, and when he is found, stuff hits the fan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw there was precious little of-age Harry in this ship tag, so I decided to do a public service.

**BOY WHO LIVED VANISHES**

 

**BOY WHO LIVED, WHERE IS HE NOW?**

 

**HARRY POTTER, MISSING IN CRISIS**

 

A man with dark hair stood next to the corkboard, reminiscent of a muggle detective caseboard, and sighed angrily, running his hands through his hair. He looked much like a normal man, albeit a handsome one, but his eyes ruined the image. They were as red as blood and had catlike slits where the pupils should have been.

 

Voldemort sighed again. It had been two years since the fight at the Ministry. Two years since Harry Potter, the boy who lived, vanished into thin air. Voldemort suspected the death of the boy’s godfather might have had something to do with it. Voldemort stared ruefully at the board, as he did most nights in his private study, adjacent to the alpha’s bedroom. Voldemort growled. He knew he was spending far too much time looking for the brat, but he couldn’t help but be… intrigued by the brat’s near misses with death at his hand. Voldemort knew, logically, that he should be looking for a mate to breed his heirs, as he couldn’t get away with the untouchable alpha persona forever. 

 

He was already having troubles with the forces under his command for it. Bellatrix, a beta, kept throwing herself at him, but somehow, despite her pedigree of pureblood, he just wasn’t interested. He regretted this, sometimes late at night, but he knew that Bellatrix just wasn’t the mate for him. He hoped she would find someone worthy of her, rather than the dolt of a husband she married to get herself through her lonely nights. She deserved someone who could challenge, perhaps even surpass her in skill. He smirked, then ran a hand through his hair again.

 

_It seems I’m getting sentimental._ He thought to himself.

 

He knew he couldn’t do what Bellatrix had done, and married for less. No. His mate would be the first and only one he would marry. He just hadn’t found them yet. It was… inconvenient to say the least, but thank Merlin for Severus inventing the rut-suppressing potion that he’d been on for years now. It made sure he didn’t waste time being unfocused. It did make him more bloodthirsty, but he learned to work that to his advantage.

 

Speaking of Severus, there was a knock at his door. Voldemort considered hexing Severus through the door, but decided against it. The potions master would be hard to replace.

“Come in, Severus.” Voldemort purred.

 

Severus entered, wearing a microexpression that deemed he was about to deliver bad news.

 

“Severus, what is it?” Voldemort asked impatiently, but softly.

 

“We may have found a lead.” Severus said.

 

“And the bad news?” Voldemort asked.

 

“... I tracked the lead myself, but the trace of power that I was following seemed… off.”

 

“What do you mean, off, Severus?”

 

“I mean, it is undoubtedly Potter’s power, but it seemed… stronger than I have ever felt it.” Severus seemed uneasy.

 

“How much stronger?” Voldemort knew Potter was an average wizard with extraordinary luck, but he had felt potential in the boy. 

 

“...Almost as strong as yours, my lord.” Severus flinched subtly, as though expecting a curse. Voldemort considered it, then decided against it. Again.

 

“There is more, my lord.” 

 

“Go on, Severus.” Voldemort said, in a slightly more patient tone. The tone of a predator about to strike.

 

“The power… Vanished into a muggle strip club.” 

 

Voldemort considered the information given. If Potter had visited the club, he would have put precautions in place, and if he was as powerful as Severus said he was now, it might take his own power to break whatever memory charms Potter had put in place. Distasteful as it may be…

 

“Good work, Severus, I will investigate this myself.” 

 

He didn’t add that he was going also to feel less… lonely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort finds Harry.

Voldemort glared at the neon signs in the red light district of the tiny town. It consisted of two buildings, but it also made up for that with more neon than was strictly necessary.

Voldemort knew that he was irritated because he was supposed to be in rut right now, but he also knew he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it.

 

Voldemort considered the buildings. He knew that Potter had indeed been there, and that the trail of magic led directly to the strip club, so really, he was delaying the inevitable. Putting on a glamour, so it appeared that he was a normal human with muggle clothing on, he stepped out of the shadows, and descended into the den of muggle depravity.

 

As he went inside, techno beats assaulted his ears, and the neon from outside was nothing compared to inside.

 

He saw a waitress in a skintight dress that hardly covered what it was supposed to, and grit his teeth. He would have to start somewhere.

 

“Excuse me, miss,” He called over the music. She put on a fake smile and walked over to him. 

 

“What can I get you, sir?” she asked.

 

“Information.” he was partly relieved to see a glimmer of fear in her eyes now.

 

“You a copper, sir?” she asked him.

 

“No.” He replied.

 

“Then whatcha need?” She asked, putting what was supposed to be a sultry voice on, but it fell flat to Voldemort’s ears.

 

“I am looking for someone.”

 

“You and everybody in here.” She snarked, still smiling.

 

“...He’s about yea high and has dark hair, glasses perhaps?” He purred.

 

“You might just find your guy on stage tonight. If being blonde isn’t a deal-breaker, here he comes now.” She jerked her head at the stage.

 

A beautiful blonde boy, hyper pale, had just breezed out on stage. He had on a skintight leather ensemble, and his scent was masked in scent-blockers, making it impossible to make out his dynamic. But he also had green eyes and a scar on his forehead. Voldemort would know that combination anywhere. Thanking the waitress, he slipped to the side of the stage and waited. 

 

Harry saw the man walk in, and knew from his power that it was Voldemort. However, a lot of practice in not looking terrified for his life left him expressionless, and his body language also revealed nothing. He began to dance around the pole on the stage, slowly removing his clothes to the beat. He was very skilled at this, and saw that Voldemort was staring, and did not look unaffected. Harry wondered what Voldemort was doing in the club, and why he wasn’t dead yet, but even that did not register on his face or in his movements. Harry deliberately tossed his clothes toward Voldemort during the last seconds of his number. Might as well, if he was going to die, right?

 

When Harry left the stage, it was to cheers and applause. He put some clothes on and changed his hair to a more red shade, before slipping behind Voldemort and whispering in his ear. 

 

“Shall we take this outside, handsome?”

 

Voldemort turned, eyes flashing their usual color before replying, “Lead on… Lovely.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More stuff happens.

 

Harry turned to his nemesis in the dirty alleyway.

 

Voldemort could still faintly hear those ghastly techno beats.

 

“Thanks for not killing everyone in there, I suppose.” Harry started off.

 

But Voldemort was slightly distracted. He could smell something from Harry under all those scent blockers, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

 

“Not a problem, Potter.” He said, trying desperately to stay focused.

 

“...Soooo… Are you not going to kill me now?” Harry asked, confused.

 

“Some questions first, Potter.” Voldemort replied.

 

“Go ahead, then.” Harry said.

 

“Why did you run away?”

 

“Because Dumbledore had my godfather killed.” Harry said Dumbledore’s name like it was a curse.

 

“What do you mean, Potter?” Voldemort asked, genuinely curious.

 

“He had Moody curse Sirius in the back, then confunded Bellatrix to make her think she did it.” Harry growled, eyes flashing.

 

Then he scratched at his neck idly. “Sorry about that, I’m just a bit…”

 

Voldemort’s eyes grew wide. He finally identified the scent coming from Potter. 

 

“You’re an omega, Potter?!” He demanded.

 

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Harry demanded.

 

Voldemort was in shock, to say the least. Omega males were rare, and revered. The most famous ones were in the Black and Malfoy families, and they were… not quite delicate, but definitely not, whatever Potter was. Good omegas were subservient people pleasers by nature, and while omega males weren’t always like that, he had issues seeing his nemesis as an omega. He blinked, trying to bring himself back to the present, and Harry’s scent, which had wafted toward his nose faintly, became stronger, and hooked into the more primal parts of Voldemort’s brain.

 

_Mate…_ He hissed in Parseltongue.

 

_I am not your mate!_ Harry cried, also in Parseltongue.

 

For the second or third time that night, Voldemort was stunned. Potter was a parselmouth?!

 

This made him want Potter, and want him badly. Then another note in Potter’s scent caught his attention. 

 

“You’re wearing glamours.” Voldemort said, confused. Glamours only had a smell when they were strong, and as strong as Potter’s were, they were almost as offensive in smell as the neon lights were in sight. How had he missed that?

 

Harry shifted from foot to foot, staring at anything other than Voldemort.

 

“Remove the glamours, Potter.” Voldemort snapped. He was more surprised than anything when Potter obeyed. Maybe he was an omega after all. But then, Voldemort’s thought process stopped completely, as he took in the shape Potter was in. All the wounds looked old. At least two years old, if he had to guess, but Harry hadn’t healed properly, either. 

 

For the first time in a long time, Voldemort completely snapped. Roaring, he seized Potter by the arm (gently, so as not to hurt mate) and apparated them away to his manor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations and surprises are revealing and surprising.

Voldemort did not stop after apparating. He dragged Harry behind him still gently, but with purpose. He pulled Harry into the throne room of his manor, then dropped into the throne in the center of the room on a dais. Harry spluttered, but Voldemort had more pressing concerns. 

 

He loathed ignoring his mate, but something needed to be dealt with. He called his personal house elf. 

 

“Mimsy!” He called. 

 

“What can I’s be doing for Master V, sir?” The elf squeaked. Harry was surprised to see that this elf was male, since their name was something so feminine.

 

“Summon Severus for me.” Voldemort said, eyes narrowed. “And make sure he comes alone.”

 

The elf bowed and vanished with a pop. 

 

Silence filled the throne room, but then Harry broke it.

 

“Um… Why didn’t you just summon him by his mark?” Harry asked.

 

“Because, then everyone would know he was summoned, and word will get out about your… condition.” Voldemort explained as patiently as he could in his state of aggression. His mate was hurt! Severus had better have a great explanation for this, or he was a dead man.

 

“...And the house elf?” Harry asked tentatively.

 

“What about her?” Voldemort asked.

 

“I thought it was a male house elf?” Harry phrased it as a question.

 

“She was assigned male at birth, but she’s really a female house elf.” Voldemort explained.

 

“Ah.” said Harry, then fell silent.

 

Severus knocked on the throne room door, and Voldemort bade him in, ordering that he shut the door behind him. 

 

Severus obeyed, then stepped into the light, the better to see his master. It was then that he saw Harry. The man gasped. 

 

Wounds covered Harry’s body, which was fully on display in his more revealing clothes. Severus, for some reason, felt a massive headache coming on under his shock.

 

“Severus, explain.” Voldemort snapped.

 

“I… I…” Severus floundered for words, still staring at Potter. 

 

“CRUCIO!” Voldemort cast the curse at Severus that he had decided against twice. Guess third time really was the charm, he thought idly.

 

Once he removed the curse, however, Severus was still writhing on the floor in agony, clutching his head in his hands.

 

Voldemort looked askance at Severus.

 

“What is wrong, Severus?” He asked, dumbfounded. 

 

“I think I know.” Harry’s voice came from his side. Voldemort looked at his mate in question.

 

“Dumbledore has these… charms, that subtly push the victim into what he wants them to do or think. It’s not quite the Imperious Curse, but when cast effectively, they are much more valuable because they cannot be detected, even by the victim of the curse.” Harry said.

 

“And how do you know this?” Voldemort said with a sinking feeling.

 

“I used to be under a number of them from birth. It was only after a good sharp shock that they began to lose hold on me, but they vanished entirely after…” Harry trailed off.

 

“After what, Harry?” Voldemort asked, still with the sinking feeling.

 

“After I was beat up by my employer for the first time.” Harry said. At Voldemort’s intake of breath, he added, “I did escape from him, but the damage was already done.”

 

Severus had stopped screaming. He was now looking at Harry with something akin to begging.

 

“Potter- Harry, I’m so sorry. I tried to go to Dumbledore after I saw what was in your memories, but he hit me with another curse and I- I couldn’t fight it… Please forgive me.” Snape begged, which was something Harry would have sold his soul to see two years ago, but now he just felt… tired. 

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Snape. It was Dumbledore. It was always Dumbledore.” he said.

 

Snape bowed his head to the floor while still facing Harry.

 

“I am truly sorry, Harry, and I swear on my magic that someday I will make it up to you.” He murmured into the floor, still completely audible.

“You can start by healing his wounds.” Voldemort snapped, still having not forgiven Severus so easily, but Harry interrupted him.

 

“No.” 

 

Voldemort turned to Harry, this time bewildered.

 

“What do you mean, Harry, don’t you want these wounds healed?” He asked, but Harry was shaking his head.

 

“We’re going up against a master manipulator, we need some hard evidence that what I say is true.” Harry said.

 

“We can save our memories in a Penseive-” Voldemort started, but Harry was still shaking his head.

 

“Dumbledore can fake memories. We need to have something we can use against him in the Wizamagot.” 

 

“Wizamagot?” Voldemort repeated.

 

“I am going to take Dumbledore down, once and for all. But I’m going to do it properly, through the legal system.” Harry said.

 

“Why?” Severus asked.

 

“Because it would be the biggest ‘fuck you’ to the man who built it up after the war with Grindlewald. It was Dumbledore who rewrote the Statute of Secrecy. It was Dumbledore who allowed Sirius to be cast to the dementors without a trial. I am going to use his own legal system against him.” Harry explained, a mysterious zeal in his eyes.

 

“...May I at least bring you pain relief potions, Harry?” Severus asked.

 

Harry tilted his head, considering. “Yes, you may.” He said at last.

 

Voldemort dismissed Severus with a “See to it.” Severus bowed to his master, and left to brew.

 

“Harry, we have things to discuss.” Voldemort said.

 

“Like what?” Asked Harry.

 

“Like the fact that you are starting your heat, yet you have refused me as your mate.” Voldemort said quietly.

“My heat hasn’t started yet,” Harry protested, but Voldemort was shaking his head.

 

“The more painful symptoms haven’t begun yet, but you are starting your heat soon.” He told Harry. “And if you weren’t wearing so many scent blockers, even your fellow omega Severus would have been able to smell it.” 

 

“Snape’s an omega?” Harry asked, stunned.

 

“That is his business.” Voldemort said tactfully. Harry blushed.

 

“So, um… I guess that means I have to find a mate soon, then.” Harry said.

 

“What exactly is your objection to myself as a mate?” Voldemort asked tightly.

 

“It’s not what you think.” Harry said.

 

“Try me.” Voldemort replied angrily.

 

“It’s not that you killed my parents and my friends, although I AM upset about that.” Harry began.

 

“Then what is it?” Voldemort said in a tone that very much suggested his patience was dead.

 

“How… How could you ever want me? I’m nobody! I’m ugly, I’m a stripper, I’m not pure anymore-”

 

“None of that matters to me.” Voldemort cut Harry off, seeing that his mate was about to cry.

 

“R-really?” Harry sobbed, tears flowing anyway.

 

Voldemort was at a loss. He didn’t know how to comfort people, he didn’t know what to do, so he pulled Harry into his arms and onto his lap. He ran a hand down Harry’s back soothingly. Now that Harry was so close though, he could smell his mate’s enticing scent more clearly, and was almost instantly hard. Harry was still sobbing, so he tried to reign himself in.

 

Harry stopped. His nose was buried in Voldemort’s shoulder, and he was sniffing at Voldemort’s scent. 

 

“Alpha!” Harry moaned, and Voldemort groaned.

 

Harry’s heat had officially taken hold, and the potions to repress his rut had accordingly worn off. 

 

_Mate!_ He snarled in Parseltongue.

 

_Yours!_ Harry cried, joining him in Parseltongue.

 

Voldemort apparated them to the bedroom and spilled Harry onto the sheets. 

 

It was time to make the boy HIS and his alone.


	5. SMUT!!! MATING!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin.

Harry was burning up. He knew he had objections to mating with the alpha above him, but those seemed far away at the moment. Alpha paused and Harry whined. 

 

Did alpha not want him? He knew he wasn’t pure anymore, but those others weren’t as strong as alpha, and he didn’t want any of them, he had just slept with them to get through his heats.

 

_ Alpha! _ He whined again in Parseltongue.  _ It burns _ !

 

Voldemort, who had been trying to regain some semblance of self-control, so as not to injure the omega beneath him, snapped. He traced the lines of omega’s face, avoiding any injuries, but still did so possessively. The omega leaned into his touch, purring slightly. 

 

Voldemort snarled. His mate was hurt! He was so close to storming out of the room and killing anyone who had dared hurt his mate, but mate needed him! So, he stayed.

 

Mate whined again, bucking his hips slightly. Voldemort roared in triumph. Mate wanted him, and him alone. He could see it in his mate’s eyes. 

 

Voldemort ripped Harry’s clothes from his overheated body, purring quietly himself now. Mate was beautiful! Mate was injured, sure, but he was gorgeous where there was no scar tissue, and after marking mate as his, he was going to hurt the people who had hurt his mate, so everything would be alright again. 

 

Mate was already leaking slick from his delicate hole, and Voldemort had to hold himself back again, from simply taking what he wanted. Mate was injured, so he had to be gentle, he knew. 

 

Voldemort leaned down, breathed on Harry’s hole, then slipped his tongue out to sample his mate’s slick. Harry whined at the sensation of a tongue against his wet hole, bucking his hips again, seeking more sensation.

 

Voldemort, however, was groaning slightly. His omega’s slick was heavenly! If his cock weren’t already throbbing painfully, he would have kept mate flat on his back for hours while sampling that taste. As it was, he inserted a single finger into Harry’s now profusely leaking hole. Harry howled in pleasure, as Voldemort found his prostate without even trying. 

 

Harry looked up with half-lidded eyes, staring quietly at his alpha. His perfect alpha!

 

Alpha was taking his sweet time adding another finger, and if Harry could speak between moans, he would have told the alpha to get on with it, already! It seemed that alpha knew what he was thinking, however, because two fingers were now rubbing at Harry’s special bundle of nerves, making everything else go blank. 

 

Harry, after about ten more minutes of this teasing, came so hard he nearly blacked out. Only to be immediately roused by his alpha’s scent, which blanketed both of them now. Heady and musky, the scent made Harry roll his hips, seeking more of that scent, more of his alpha!

 

A third finger had been added shortly after Harry had cum, but all three fingers were removed quickly soon after. Harry whined at the loss, needing his alpha.

 

Voldemort’s blunt head was now teasing at his entrance. Harry noted that it was huge, but that only made the fire inside him burn hotter. Panting slightly, he managed to get a litany of “Please alpha, alpha please, need you alpha-” out before Voldemort slammed into his body, causing him to cry out in pleasure-pain.

 

Alpha was HUGE! Harry thought, somewhat delightedly. Alpha would breed him, and he would carry the babies of this strong sire gladly! He needed it, needed alpha to fill him up-

 

Voldemort read these thoughts, clouded with lust, and groaned pleasurably. Little omega wanted his babies! Little omega was so hot, so perfect, so beautiful-

 

This time, they came together, but they were far from finished yet, as Alpha’s knot was only half-hard. Harry reached down to attempt to help, only to have his arms pinned by the wrists above his head. Alpha was sweating slightly, panting and thrusting like one possessed. THe slight power over the omega was intoxicating, particularly when the omega (Harry, some part of his mind corrected, HIS Harry!) began meeting him thrust for thrust and moaning obscenely.

 

Alpha’s knot was hard in record time after that, Harry noted somewhere in the back of his mind smugly. After getting hard, Voldemort thrust once, twice, and then his knot caught on Harry’s distended rim, warm cum flooding his channel, and the knot keeping all of it there. Harry liked that, all of his alpha’s cum being forced to stay inside him, not a single fluid ounce being wasted, and with that thought, came again with a cry.

 

Harry fell into subspace after cumming, but distantly, he heard his alpha say, “Mine!” and felt his own mind respond, “yours!” but it didn’t make it to his lips, he was too far gone.

 

His body was already changing rapidly, keying itself to Voldemort, and Voldemort alone. No other alpha would so much as be able to get him hard after this, and no alpha would even try, with Voldemort at his side. Alpha would kill them, Harry thought, still distantly.

Several hours later, when the process had been completed and his heat had partially died down, Harry came out of subspace to the sensation of Voldemort‘s knot softening and slipping out of his hole. He whined at the loss. 

 

Voldemort, too, was heavily affected, and twisted their bodies on the bed, so that they were spooning. Harry was all too glad to be the little spoon, and snuggled into Voldemort’s arms happily.

 

Voldemort smiled. 

 

How often, he thought to himself, have I wanted to kill the brat, yet here we are, mates. He shook his head. This is better, much better. 

 

And Harry and he would rule the world side by side one day, long after the ones who hurt HIS mate were dead, he thought happily, before drifting off to sleep.


	6. Wedding Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding plans, Bellatrix, and sadly, no Hermione yet. :( Mentioned though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Surprise, I’m still alive.

Harry Potter opened his eyes. He still felt sore from his heat- OH BLOODY MERLIN!!! He had slept, no MATED with Voldemort. HE HAD MATED WITH VOLDEMORT?! WHat the bloody hell had he been thinking?! 

 

A hand gently touched Harry’s shoulder before he could work himself up any further. Harry looked into Voldemort’s red eyes. 

 

“Don’t worry yourself so, Harry. If there are to be any hysterics, they ought to come from me.” Voldemort said. 

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, honestly curious. 

 

“I just mated with someone less than half my age, don’t you think that is room for hysterics?” Voldemort said slyly.

 

Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. 

 

“You just made a joke.” He said.

 

Voldemort looked at him, affronted. “Of course I made a joke, what did you think I did in my spare time?”

 

Harry mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Plot murder, maybe.” But perhaps his mate misheard him. 

 

“In any event, we should discuss our plans.” Voldemort said.

 

Harry looked confused. “What plans?” he asked Voldemort.

 

“Our wedding plans, of course.” Voldemort stated matter-of-factly. 

 

“Whoa, what?” Harry demanded. “Since when are we getting married?”

 

Voldemort sighed. “A marriage is the most expedient way to introduce our new status as mates, and our new truce.” Voldemort’s look suddenly became sly. “Besides, I could make it worth your while, little mate.” 

 

Harry blushed scarlet. 

 

Voldemort sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. “I suggest we start with who you wish to have in the wedding party. Bear in mind that these details are not final, I just want your opinion.” 

 

“I definitely want Hermione in the wedding,” Harry began, “I don’t know about Ron, I’m not sure he would accept us being together… Definitely not Ginny, she’d just glare at everyone the whole time.” 

 

Voldemort nodded. “All quite logical and reasonable. Anything else?”

 

Harry considered a moment, then shook his head. “I can’t think of anything.”

 

Voldemort nodded, then ruffled his mate’s hair. “I’ll take care of everything, if you are willing to leave the rest to me, and to take some time to recover.” 

 

Harry yawned, then said, “Sounds great to me.” 

 

Voldemort grinned, then kissed Harry’s forehead. “Goodnight, little mate.” He hissed in Parseltongue. 

 

“Night,” Harry replied, his eyelids already slamming shut, and not even realizing he too, had slipped into Parseltongue.

 

(Time skip)

 

“I won’t hear anything against it, Bellatrix!” Harry’s eyes shot open at the sound of his mate’s voice so angry.

“My Lord, I must speak! He’s tricked you somehow!”

 

“That is enough! CRUCIO!” 

 

At Bellatrix’s screams, Harry bolted into the room.

 

“Stop it! Please stop it!” Harry asked, tearing up a little.

 

Voldemort stopped immediately.

 

Harry turned to Bellatrix. “Look, I know you love him, but there is nothing either of us can do now. I am mated to him, and there is no turning back from that.”

 

Bellatrix began to cry. “I can smell him on you! All I ever wanted was for him to be happy, and now I can never make that happen.”

 

Harry considered her. “What if I promise to try and make him happy in your stead?” 

 

Bellatrix looked up tearfully. “Y-you w-would do that for me?”

 

Harry nodded. “And- er, do you want to be in the wedding party? I still need a maid of honor, and I know Hermione would prefer to be a normal bridesmaid-” 

 

Bellatrix wailed in joy, then launched herself at Harry. “It would be an honor!” She sobbed. 

 

Voldemort cleared his throat. 

 

Bellatrix immediately stepped back. “I apologize, my lord.” She said.

 

Harry looked at them quizzically. “Why are you apologizing?”

 

Voldemort smirked. Bellatrix awkwardly pointed down while averting her eyes. Harry looked down at himself, only to see he was still very much naked. 

 

“BOLLOCKS!” He roared, then rushed to put on some clothes.

 

Voldemort and Bellatrix just snickered behind him.


End file.
